


Deconditioning

by SnubbingApollo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3882019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnubbingApollo/pseuds/SnubbingApollo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian Pavus loves to be touched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deconditioning

Dorian Pavus loves to be touched. He was an overly affectionate child, always wanting to be held or cuddled and had only let up when he’d gotten old enough that decorum had demanded he stop. It had only taken a few disapproving looks from his mother and father to cement the lesson that he was very much too old for such childish behavior.

He’d dreamed when he was young, before he knew, that romance would fill that need. And it had, in a way. He got a kind of affection, of touch, from his lovers, and it was good. Sex was pleasurable. But that’s all it was. There was no holding hands or curling up together. Dorian had given himself those same disapproving looks he’d received from his parents and told himself he was being childish yet again. This was the way of the world and he would have to be an adult and accept it. So Dorian learned to make do with what he was given. To soak up touches and kisses while they were his and get as much out of them as possible.

The Bull had remarked upon the desperate fervor with which Dorian made love early in their relationship, back before it could really have been called a relationship at all. It had taken a long time for Dorian to be willing to accept a slower, more relaxed pace and still, even now, there were days when Dorian would fall on the Bull as though he meant to devour him. Not that the qunari ever complained per se.

_“Love when you get like this, Dorian,” The Bull whispers fervently against his lips. Dorian chases him every time he tries to pull away, yanking him back by his horns. “Crashing into me like a storm. My Asaaranda.”_

Dorian smiles at the memory. He’d asked blearily later that evening what the word meant.

“Thunderstorm,” the Bull had responded with a smile. Dorian doesn’t know what look was on his face but since that night the Bull had taken to calling him that whenever one of those moods took him.

Even harder to accept than the Bull’s penchant for gentle lovemaking, really what is the point of having a seven foot tall giant for a lover if you aren’t getting slammed into a wall at least some of the time, was his tendency for public displays of affection.

Putting aside the fact that such displays were unseemly and juvenile for anyone, Dorian had seen, back in Tevinter, all the things that could happen to men who weren’t discreet enough about their tendencies. His status as an Altus afforded some measure of protection but not enough for him to be reckless, especially as it was a status his lovers didn’t always share. The first time the Bull had taken his hand in the tavern, they’d been sitting with the Chargers and Dorian had frozen in place. He’d known these people for quite a while. The Bull trusted them, he trusted them, and none of them had reacted poorly the knowledge of his… proclivities but it was one thing to be told someone was a deviant. It was another to see it flaunted in your face. One of them might even get it in their heads that he was corrupting their leader somehow. As ridiculous as the idea of the Bull needing someone to defend his honor was, his men loved him. If they decided Dorian’s influence was a bad one, there’s no telling what they might do.

“Aaaaaw, look at the little lovebirds,” Krem had teased, and the group had erupted in laughter, but it wasn’t what Dorian was expected. It had sounded affectionate and lacked any of the cruelty Dorian was used to hearing in such mockery. He had relaxed minutely as the Bull had halfheartedly swatted his second in command with his free hand. Krem, presumably having noticed his skittishness, had taken him aside later that night and explained his own… situation. That had calmed Dorian considerably, though he’d remained slightly wary of the others, to say nothing of the rest of the Inquisition, for some time.

Looking back now it’s almost hard to remember he was ever so afraid. He walks back to the corner of the tavern the Chargers have claimed as their own, a mug of ale in each hand. He hands one to Bull before all but throwing himself in the qunari’s lap, to a chorus of hoots and catcalls. Skinner whispers something in Dalish’s ear and the latter laughs a little in response giving Dorian a leer. Dorian merely rolls his eyes in response. The two of them have no room to talk.

“When are you gonna sit in my lap like that, Lautus?” Krem teases from the chair next to them. Dorian is about to respond but the Bull wraps an arm around Dorian’s waist possessively.

“Get your own,” he fires back.

“But yours is so pretty,” Krem pouts.

The Bull lets out a laugh.

“Ha! You think he’s pretty now you should see him when I’ve got him-,” Dorian cuts the Bull off hurriedly pressing his mouth to the qunari’s and distracting him as thoroughly as he knows how. There are still some limits. This of course just leads to more hooting and hollering. Dorian pulls away with a smile.

“Not in front of the children, Amatus,” he says.

“Does that make you our mother?” Dalish asks through her laughter.

“You be quiet or I’ll send you to your room,” Dorian returns deadpan, leaning back against the qunari behind him and taking a long swallow of ale he’ll deny to his dying day he enjoys. As he soaks in both the laughter and the warm weight of the Bull’s arm around him Dorian sighs contentedly. This is home, these are his people, and he’s not afraid anymore.


End file.
